Chapter One
Gallatin Valley, near Bozeman, Montana
“You sure you’ve got everything, sweetheart?” Abby’s mother hovered in the doorway, wringing her hands in her apron.
Abby nodded. It was all she could do to respond around the knot in her throat. “Yes, Mama.”
Her father waited at the top of the porch steps, hat in hand, as he watched Edmund load her trunk into the wagon. The boards creaked under Abby’s boots as she stepped toward him.
“I’ll miss you, Papa,” she told him.
He turned to look at her, wearing the same expression as her ma. They looked a little proud and a little sorrowful. She could tell her pa was afraid. Or maybe just resigned.
“This is a good thing, Abby,” he said. “Be kind to your husband and remember everything we’ve taught you. Say your prayers and be a good girl. You’ll receive all the wonderful blessings you deserve.”
Abby smiled. “I will. I love you, Papa.”
He opened his arms wide and returned her smile.
She wasted no time, crossing the porch and throwing her arms around his neck.
Sobbing, she held on tightly to the only father she’d ever known.
His embrace was solid and familiar, a shelter she’d leaned on her whole life.
In his arms, she felt safe in a way she feared she might never feel again.
“Come on, darlin’,” he told her as he gently tugged her away. “You can do this, Abby.”
She sniffed and nodded, glancing back at the wagon. It was hitched and ready in the yard. Edmund sat on the bench seat, stiff-backed and impatient. He gripped the reins tightly in his gloved hands, staring straight ahead at the darkness.
Her mother pulled Abby into a tight embrace. Then, she forced herself to let go, wiping her eyes and sniffing. “Write us as soon as you get settled,” she whispered. “Don’t forget.”
“I won’t forget,” Abby said, her voice trembling. She gave her mother one more brief hug, breathing in the familiar scent of flour and woodsmoke. Then, she stepped back and tried to give her ma a brave smile.
Her father was never a man given to displays of affection, but he reached out and cupped her face in both hands. “You mind your husband,” he said softly before kissing her forehead lightly. “Do your part, and he’ll do his.”
Abby nodded, but something inside her whispered a warning.
She wanted to ask how he could be so sure.
Why did he trust this man so much? And why did she feel so cold inside when she looked at Edmund?
But she swallowed the questions. She would be an obedient, dutiful daughter.
Her parents had worked too hard and sacrificed too much to give her this chance at a better life. She should be grateful.
“Abigail!” Edmund’s voice cracked across the yard like a whip. “Let’s go. We’re late.”
Her mother flinched. Her father’s jaw tightened. But neither said a word.
Abby forced a smile for them. It was small and shaky, but it was all she could manage. Then, she lifted her skirts and walked toward the wagon. Edmund didn’t offer a hand up. He didn’t even shift over to make room for her. She climbed up beside him, setting her bag at her feet.
The moment she sat, he snapped the reins, and the wagon lurched forward.
Her parents stood on the porch, waving until the road curved and they disappeared from sight. Abby kept her eyes on the empty stretch behind them long after they were gone, as if she could hold onto them by sheer will.
When she finally faced forward again, the world felt new and unfamiliar.
The ride began quietly enough. Edmund kept his eyes on the road, his back straight, and his expression unreadable.
He asked if she was warm enough. If she’d eaten.
If she needed to stop before they reached the main road.
His tone was polite but distant, as if he were speaking to a stranger.
And, in a way, she supposed he was. She answered softly, appreciating the calm.
But as the miles passed, so did his politeness.
He stopped asking questions. Stopped glancing her way.
His jaw clenched tighter with each passing mile, as though the effort of civility wore on him.
Abby noticed. Of course, she did. But she thought maybe she was imagining it.
He was obviously tired and focused on the horses.
Maybe he had responsibilities waiting for him at home.
There could have been a thousand reasons for his mood.
She folded her hands in her lap and watched the landscape roll by, the pine forests giving way to open stretches of grassland until the mountains appeared on the distant horizon.
She tried to picture her new life. A proper home.
A husband with means. Lessons, he’d said, and an education. A future she’d never dared dream of.
She held onto those ideas like a lifeline as the distance between her and home grew.
The farther they went, the twitchier her fingers became.
She glanced at the unfamiliar landscape around her, picking at the hem of her skirt.
If the knot in her stomach was this tight already, what would it be like by the time she reached Boston?
Hours later, when her back was aching so bad that she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go on, the wagon turned off the main road and onto a long, tree-lined lane. Abby straightened in her seat. And finally, a house came into view, rising slowly behind a cluster of tall pines.
Her breath caught.
It was beautiful, large and whitewashed, with a wide porch and tall windows that gleamed in the afternoon sun. The yard was neat, the fences tall and straight, and the barn freshly painted. Everything about it spoke of wealth, order, and stability.
Relief washed through her. At least he hadn’t lied about the house.
She turned to Edmund, hope flickering in her chest. “It’s lovely,” she said softly. “Truly lovely.”
He grunted in response, not bothering to look at her.
Still, she pressed on, eager to find the polite version of him that she’d met before. She was also hoping that she hadn’t ruined any potential relationship before they even arrived at the school. “Is your sister here already? You mentioned that she would be chaperoning—”
Edmund snapped his head toward her so suddenly she flinched.
“Enough!” he barked. “Hold your tongue.”
The words hit her like a slap.
Abby stared at him, stunned. The politeness was gone. His eyes were cold, flat, and full of irritation, as though her voice alone offended him.
“I—I didn’t mean—” she began.
“I don’t care what you meant,” he cut in. “You’ll speak when spoken to.”
For a heartbeat, she couldn’t breathe. No one, not her father or her mother, or anyone else, had ever taken that tone with her. Her cheeks burned hot, then cold. She stared at her hands as if they belonged to someone else. She folded them tight in her lap to keep them from shaking.
This was the man her parents had trusted with their daughter; the man she was expected to respect and look up to…to learn from.
The wagon jolted to a stop in front of the house, but she barely felt it. Edmund climbed down without a backward glance, leaving her sitting there with the echo of his voice still ringing in her ears.
Abby sat frozen for a moment, not sure what to do. She’d known deep down in her gut that something was wrong. She’d felt it in the way he’d spoken to her that morning in front of her parents, the impatience simmering beneath his polished veneer.
But she’d pushed it aside.
She’d wanted to believe. She’d wanted to make her parents happy.
Now, staring at the grand house that should have been the new home of her dreams, she felt a chill creep through her.
“Get down here,” he said.
Her bones felt brittle, but she forced herself to move.
She gathered her bag, stepped down from the wagon, and looked at the house again.
It wasn’t pretty anymore. Now, it was ugly.
It loomed above her, disguised as something beautiful and inviting.
But she could see the ugliness beneath that lovely veneer. Just like Edmund.
A hollow ache opened in her chest, and all those uneasy feelings she’d pushed aside came rushing back. They were cruel and merciless. He’d fooled her parents, and he’d almost fooled her, too. Now she was bound to him, bundled straight into the hands of a man she didn’t know at all.
Shame prickled under her skin, shame that she hadn’t seen his deceit sooner. And beneath it, a deeper fear took hold as she understood that there was no way out now.
She tried telling herself she was overreacting. That he was just tired from the long journey. Or maybe he was being forced into this union, just like her, and he was angry or resentful. Maybe his sister was inside and could talk to him. She had to hope that tomorrow would be better.
She had to believe it.
Abby followed Edmund to the porch steps, her heart thudding. She wondered if she showed Edmund that she was grateful and accepting of her new life, that maybe he’d soften again. He couldn’t be too angry with her. She’d done nothing to him.
She smoothed her skirt and forced a small, hopeful smile. “I’m excited to meet your sister,” she said lightly, trying to sound cheerful. “Truly, I am. I know I must’ve seemed nervous earlier, but I’m ready now. Ready to learn, ready to be a good wife.”
Edmund didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at her.
Still, she pressed on, desperate to mend whatever she’d broken. “You mentioned lessons,” she said, her voice brightening with effort. “It all sounds so exciting. I’d like to start soon, if—if that’s still your wish.”
Finally, he turned to her, and the look in his eyes made her skin crawl. She saw it then. The polite mask he’d worn earlier hadn’t just slipped temporarily. It was gone—stripped away entirely. What remained was ugly, angry, and cold.
“For God’s sake, woman,” he snapped, “I told you to stop talking!”
Her mouth fell open. “I—I only meant—”